Kitty in the Snake Pit
by DylantheRabbit
Summary: Hermione's run of bad luck with polyjuice potion continues as Daphne Greengrass discovers the benefits of pet ownership. Fluffy femslash one shot. HG/DG.
**A bonus one shot dedicated to my beautiful little cat Jingles who died yesterday six weeks short of her twentieth birthday. My loving and lively little furry life companion who outlasted two live in girlfriends and one wife and was my longest and happiest relationship.**

 **Rest in peace little one. This is for you.**

 **DtR xx.**

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 **Kitty in the Snake Pit**

Hermione Granger sat perched on the sink in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom staring in utter disbelief at her reflection in the mirror and huffed quietly with frustration. This was just so much worse than last time.

It had been a simple plan. She, Harry and Ron needed information on the hateful Umbridge creature and they had decided that if one of them were to go polyjuiced into the woman's office as Pansy Parkinson they could, not only get said information, but also lay some kind of false trail. She had volunteered, despite her dislike of the potion, because she was not going to let one of those idiot boys use the opportunity to invesigate the girl's body. Not that she wouldn't be doing the same. She was a very curious trainee lesbian after all and Parkinson was pretty hot in a messed up, snotty kind of a way. Staring at herself in the mirror she suddenly remembered an old saying about curiousity and cats.

"Seriously, why does this sort of thing always happen to me?"

Well, at least that's what she would have said if she could have spoken. As it was all that came out of her tiny mouth was a long, low mewling sound that eventually faded into a kind of half purr, half hiss.

Bloody polyjuice potion.

Every single effing time she tried using this crap she ended up at least partially feline but she had never gotten it quite this spectacularly badly wrong before. Not for the first time Hermione wondered if she hadn't made an appalling mistake in adopting her cat, Crookshanks from that run down pet shop in Diagon Alley. Sure he was a sweet and attentive little cuddle monkey when he wanted to be, but the manky, mischievous git managed to get his hair on pretty much everything that she owned. Including her potions supplies apparently. The half kneazle was a born explorer, as well as a nosy little sod, and nothing that she had ever tried could keep him out of her stuff. Not that she had tried all that hard. There was something very comforting about having a creature as solitary and aloof as he was where everybody else was concerned, doting on her the way that he clearly did. He was just a grumpy, bandy legged, saggy old ginger bag of bones but Hermione loved him. Most of the time anyway. At this exact moment she had distinctly mixed feelings about her pet.

It had been a match made in heaven. From the first time that the wild haired young Gryffindor bookworm had held the overly large, six week old, half breed kitten cradled in her arms she had known that she would never again be alone or lack for love in her life. For his part Crookshanks had felt that the attention that the nice smelling small human lavished on him, while obviously completely deserved and justified, was probably the most wonderful thing that he had ever experienced in his short life. The two and a half dangerous and adventure filled years that had followed had only brought the girl and her cat closer together. Though their misadventures were always carried out apart they never failed to come together afterwards to comfort and support each other. Curling up on Hermione's bed to chatter (or mew in Crookshanks case) to and console each other at the end of yet another near death experience. It was like coming home for both of them. It was why as much as he sometimes annoyed her, like now, Hermione could never stay angry at the flat faced, ginger feline for long.

Back in the second floor bathroom Hermione regarded herself critically in the mirror and would have smiled were it possible for her to do so at the cute and fluffy image staring back at her with it's big amber eyes. She would admit that she made a really very sweet looking cat. Half the size of Crooks, her fur was long and fluffy with great splashes of ginger tabby decorating her otherwise dark brunette colouring and the wide spread whiskers made her look utterly adorable. Top it all off with a pink nose and those glorious, over large round eyes and you had the absolute definition of the word cute. A very pretty kitty she was. Hermione Granger was about to discover that she was not alone in thinking this.

"Come on Pans it's not like it's the first time he's done this. For once in your life grow a pair and tell the great blonde ponce to sod off."

"It's not that easy Daph, my parents are relying on me to make a good match and Draco's the best of a bad bunch."

"Bad bunch? You're not bloody kidding."

Hermione sat stock still on top of her sink pretending to be a statue (at which she had some experience after her second year) hoping that the two Slytherin girls who had just entered the bathroom would think that she was some form of new and extremely lifelike ornament or a very strange looking and hairy elf. Unfortunately for her and despite their reputations to the contrary, neither young woman was quite that stupid or unobservant.

"Oh my God! Look at the kitty. Isn't she just the cutest?"

To Hermione's consternation it was actually the ice queen of Slytherin house, Daphne Greengrass, who had made this squealing, delighted statement while scooping her up in her arms and holding her close to a surprisingly well developed chest. Despite her aversion to those who wore the silver and green and to her undying shame and embarrassment, the cat instincts kicked in and she snuggled into the silky soft skin at the blonde girl's neck letting out a happy, contented and obscenely loud purr. Daphne giggled at the affectionate feline and cooed over her before planting a small kiss right on Hermione's tiny pink nose. Cat Hermione tried to resist, she really did, but it just felt soooo nice. The purring became louder as she returned the kiss with her little dry tongue. Their extended love in was interrupted by a loud and unhappy sound from the other occupant of the bathroom.

"Eeeeuuuuwwww. Put it down Daph. It could have fleas or rabies or anything."

"My Jingles does _not_ have fleas."

"Jingles? Who the bloody hell is Jingles?"

Hermione felt a slight pressure around her neck and started at the tinkling noise that she made when she looked around and up at her comfy blonde captor with a quizical tilt of her head. Daphne smiled broadly down at her new pet, now wearing a freshly conjured pink collar complete with a bell hanging from it, and blew her a kiss before turning to Pansy with an idiotic grin plastered on her usually expressionless face.

"See?"

She indicated the bell wearing kitty Hermione with a nod of her head.

"Jingles."

"Merlin save us, she's gone mental."

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Hermione Granger was currently both in heaven and in hell. Here she was sitting in the lap of one of the most beautiful and unattainable girls in the whole school being stroked and cuddled and cooed over by half a dozen cute young things. If it weren't for the fact that she was a polyjuiced Gryffindor in the Slytherin common room, Hermione would have actually been enjoying herself immensely. The realisation that she had absolutely no concept of time in her cat form and thus no idea of when the potion would wear off leaving her exposed here in enemy territory was just starting to dawn on her. It was not a pleasant thought and she whimpered a bit while trying to burrow herself into the now familiar and comforting lap and stomach of Daphne Greengrass. There was a soft chorus of 'Ahhhhs' from the other girls as their resident Ice queen was reduced to a giggling mess by the small, furry, adorable kitty.

"Well ladies it looks as if Jingles here has had enough excitement for one day so we shall retire our bedroom for the evening. Good night all."

With that the blonde goddess placed kitty Hermione against her shoulder and swept off regally up the stairs to her dorm room ignoring the disappointed 'ohhhhs' and pleading faces of her female housemates. Once safely ensconced in her room, Daphne all but fell on to the bed taking great care to land on her back so that her kitty would be on top of her and not get injured. This had the result of bouncing Hermione in the air slightly. To which the cat girl took maximum advantage of the situation by aiming her return so that she landed face first into her new temporary owner's impressive cleavage. She felt guilty for all of about half a second before the intoxicating aroma of the other girl had her rubbing her cheek against Daphne's tits and purring wildly. The fact that the blonde Slytherin seemed to be enjoying this attention didn't go un-noticed by Hermione. Too soon she was gently pulled from her bouncy playpen and felt herself drawn up to stare into hypnotic blue eyes and hoped that she had brewed this batch of her potion long enough to last the night. There were certain benefits to her mistake if being a kitty meant that she got to sleep with this scintillating vision of womanhood for a whole night.

"Does ickle Jingles want to come and watch Daphy waphy take a bath?"

Oh God yes. Hermione mentally begged, all thoughts of potions and consequences suddenly fleeing her mind at an incredible speed at the idea of seeing 'Daphy waphy' all naked and soapy. Yes indeed, that would be just _super_. She leapt from the bed and entwined herself around long legs excitedly as she accompanied the statuesque girl to her en suite with a spring in her step and joy in her heart. This was going to be a bath time that she would never forget.

Daphne waited for her furry audience to take a seat on the edge of the tub before disrobing at an agonisingly slow pace. Going by her sultry movements Hermione thought that it was almost as if she knew that her small visitor was expecting a bit of a show. As the last of the lacy black undergarments hit the floor the little cat was shaking in patient anticipation. That patience was richly rewarded when Daphne then bent to fill the bath displaying herself to the slack jawed Hermione in all her naked, pink and perfectly formed glory.

Ho ... ly crap. Or more precisely. Hole ... ley crap. The Gryffindor wondered if Professor MacGonnagal might let her borrow her pensieve tomorrow. She was going to want to relive this memory over and over again.

Oh pooh. Much to Hermione's disappointment the blonde bombshell was now lowering herself cautiously into the scented, bubble filled water. Although the fact that Daphne's mesmerising breasts were now floating in a most satisfactory manner, displaying the occasional glimpse of redish pink nipple through the foam was comforting her somewhat. Sadly she was staring so much that even her current feline grace and balance couldn't overcome her natural clumsiness or stop the inevitable and she fell headlong into the water. It was not exactly how she had imagined sharing a bath with the hottest girl in school.

Having been rescued and dried out by a still naked Daphne (yay!), given some house elf supplied milk and brushed into a stupor, Jingles the kitty (formerly known as Hermione Granger) was now feeling incredibly sleepy. She shifted from her position on the pillow to regard the blonde, who was now reading in bed, taking in the beautific profile of her bed mate. In front of her peers and classmates Daphne Greengrass was a gorgeous, if cold, young woman. In private relaxation, however, she was simply stunning. No matter what happened tomorow Hermione wanted to always remember the girl like this. She stumbled on tired, unsteady legs across the blonde's soft body to curl up on the open book and fell asleep with the soothing smell of old paper and leather binding filling her senses. What a lovely evening she was having, she thought as she gave a tiny yawn and drifted off.

Much later Hermione stretched out and was rather surprised when her hands collided with the hard wooden headboard. Hands. Not paws. Oh fuck. Even now back in her usual form the remnants of her previously feline instincts were raging through her body mixing with the insistent teenaged hormones and making her contemplate a course of action that would have far reaching repercussions for everone at Hogwarts. God she wanted to lick this sleeping, glorious, beautiful young woman all over.

And she knew just where to start.

After Hermione had stolen one of her cloaks and her panties and slipped quietly from her bedroom, Daphne Greengrass opened her eyes and let out a great, long and very satisfied sigh. She smiled and fingered the broken pink collar, flicking the little bell to make it ring again and again. Oh my, kitty, she thought. We will definitely be doing _that_ again. And next time she wouldn't be pretending to be asleep the whole time.

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Hermione had somehow managed to avoid detection as she slunk back to Gryffindor tower at four thirty that morning with an extremely stiff jaw and a big, silly grin on her face. Even the huffing frustration of the boys at the dismal (and extensively edited) failure of their 'simple' plan had not succeeded in shifting the, seemingly, permanent lift to her lips. The smile remained there all the way down to the great hall and well into breakfast, leading many interested observers close to her wondering what in Merlin's name was wrong with the girl. Even Ginny's blunt questioning didn't shift her mood. Hermione was simply feeling as high as a kite. There was not a cloud in her metaphorical sky and nothing could bring her down. Right up to the point that she spied an all too familiar blonde girl sauntering regally (sexilly) over to their table. Then the smile became a grimace and she hid her reddening face deep in her hands.

"Granger. Do you think I could have my panties back. I mean, I get that you wanted some kind of trophy but it's rather chilly without them. Oh and, by the way, you left something in my bedroom last night."

There was total and shocked silence as a now mended and human sized pink collar landed on the table in the front of her, it's bell tinkling away merrily while the members of Gryffindor house took a few moments to process what the Slytherin ice queen had just said. Then all hell let loose.

"Eeeuuwwww."

"Bloody hell."

"You didn't."

And one.

"Fuck me. Nice one Mione."

From a rather impressed, if incredibly bloody jealous, Ginny Weasley.

"No Miss Weasley, she will _not_ be doing that with you. There is only one person who gets that particular honour in this school. And I am most definitely not somebody who is good at sharing."

Daphne's lovely face betrayed none of the amusement that she currently felt at having succesfully shocked, stunned or offended the entire red and gold house with two simple sentences. She ignored new round of 'eeeuuwwws' and retching sounds from the table, merely raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow and looking straight at Hermione indicated the collar with a nod of her head.

"Well. What are you waiting for Jingles? Put it on and let's go."

While the entire population of Hogwarts looked on in fascinated horror, the Slytherin princess and the Gryffindor bookworm left the great hall arm in arm with their heads together whispering conspiratorially. As they passed through the double doors and out into the grounds Professor Minerva MacGonnagal smiled secretly to herself at overhearing the end of their conversation with her enhanced senses.

"You know we should work out a way for you to keep the ears and the tail. You make such a cute kitty."

Humming a tune that sounded suspiciously like 'What's new pussycat' Hermione hugged her owner's arm and squealed happily at the thought of how much fun they would have researching that.

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 **Over the top? Probably. Incredibly soppy? Most definitely. Yet somehow I simply can't bring myself to care. Real men love their kitties and they're not afraid to show it.**

 **This was just for me. A cathartic exercise to avouid the melancholy and remember the happy times. If you liked it, well that's just a bonus.**

 **DtR xx.**


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